For Frying Out Loud by Fay Jacobs

Author:Fay Jacobs
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781612940762
Publisher: Bywater Books
Published: 2016-04-26T04:00:00+00:00

April 2009

FLOUNDERING ON THE HIGH SEAS

“You can’t swing a cat in Rehoboth without hitting a lesbian.”

The quote, quite true, came from a group of gay gals laughing it up along Baltimore Avenue last week in the incredible sunshine and heat. April? Town was packed!

And as one of those in danger of being smacked in the head with a flying feline, it’s just great to see the weather change for the good here in Gayberry RFD. The April taste of summer wasn’t wasted on me. Having been cooped up most of the winter, nose to the computer keyboard, I immediately put the convertible top down on my car and drove around town like a tourist. Upon my return to the house I flung open the windows and luxuriated in the fresh scent of cherry tree flowers and blooming plants.

What was I thinking? After one night’s sleep with open windows, I had two pounds of pollen packed in my sinus cavities and another bushel blanketing every surface in the house. I’m sniffling and snorting from allergies that feel like swine flu. I tried a sinus wash – you know, waterboarding, like the military uses for torture. It didn’t help.

Then, like fools we went to the nursery for the annual replacement plants. I don’t know why we don’t just stick plastic flowers in the planters. If all the dollar bills I spend each spring replacing dead stuff were laid end to end they’d reach to the condominium I should be living in.

We toted plants sentenced to death to a car covered in pollen, for planting in a yard that’s basically a dog latrine. Tomorrow we’ll plant the greenery on death row, I mean the backyard. Achoo!

A glutton for punishment, Bonnie and I then accepted an invitation to breathe in several more buckets of pollen and allergens – we went for a day on Rehoboth Bay, fishing. I’ve never been a fisherperson, news that I’m sure shocks you.

But much to my delight though, the generous Captain and First Mate surprised me with my very own fishing rod – pink, with teeny sparkly lights that blinked whenever the reel spun. “I couldn’t resist,” said the Captain. I think it was the Hannah Montana edition.

After drifting for a while near the Indian River Bridge, me with my pink fishing pole dangling professionally from the side of the boat as I busied myself with e-mail on my phone, the first mate landed a big flounder. Mission (dinner) accomplished. We reeled in to go traveling.

This is where it got interesting.

On our way out of the Indian River Inlet and into the ocean, Bonnie and I sat up front on the speedy fishing boat. I may be a neophyte fisherperson, but I’m an experienced boater, having lived on and traveled in a 29 foot power boat all around the Delaware and Chesapeake Bays, up to New York City and Fire Island and back. The alternate title of my first book was going to be My Life as Ballast.

So imagine

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